A Perfect Crime
by mellowydramatic
Summary: When Lestrade accused for a crime where all the evidence points to him, Sherlock struggles to distinguish deductions between hopeful possibilities. But when John is thrown into the equation, the game turns deadly. Because, after all, there is no perfect crime.


**Disclaimer: **This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Sherlock Holmes world which is trademarked by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of Sherlock Holmes. The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's story canon. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line. I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story. I am grateful to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for his wonderful stories about Sherlock Holmes, for without his books (and Mark Gatiss and Steve Moffat's recreation of it), my story would not exist.**  
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**A/N: **This is only my second fan fiction, so I apologize in advance for anything that is confusing or strange, or weird. Also, I would absolutely be ecstatic if you clicked that fancy white button and followed or favorited! Reviews are also VERY much appreciated, and also if you're wondering I will update this either every Friday or a few days before! And so without further ado, The Perfect Crime.

The last thing Lestrade needed was Sherlock on his case. There'd already been one mass murder, involving a gang called the White Mice, who was still on the run. Then as if his week couldn't get any worse, two kids kidnapped and found dead on the bank of a river last night. In any case, the press was having a field day. Lestrade sat down in the chair in his office and ran his fingers through his ruffled gray hair while he read the case folder of the boy and girl who were kidnapped, Thomas Penn and Elizabeth Tulip.

"Some coffee?" Donovan interjected as she came in the door two cups of coffee in her hands.

"Um, yes, thanks Donovan." He took the coffee wearily and sipped slowly. Donovan gave a curt smile and exited the room. He sighed and looked over the case some more. It was pretty tragic. A few days ago, the boy playing in a park, his parents look away for one moment- he's gone. Same for the girl-same park, too. "Huh," Lestrade thought. He took another sip of coffee and puzzled over it some more. The boy and the girl had no relations whatsoever. Not brother or sister, not cousins, just two random kids kidnapped at the same park. "They were probably just two kids at the park at the same time," he thought, when suddenly interrupting his thoughts came none other than Sherlock Holmes, followed by John Watson.

"Hey Greg, how it g-" John started to say with a grim smile when Lestrade huffily interrupted "Oh bother, what's it this time!" to Sherlock, standing up suddenly.

"It's nice to see you too, Lestrade," Sherlock smiled with a roll of his eyes.

"Yes, yes, well you know I haven't exactly been having a great week." Lestrade said a bit rudely.

Sherlock smirked and said "Yes, the mass murder…all over the papers,"

"Oh yes, such a tragedy…" John said with a sigh, putting his hands into his pockets.

"Anyways, the reason we came is we need your help for a case." Sherlock said, as if this explained everything.

"My help?" Lestrade said skeptically, putting a hand up to his temples, brushing his hair up.

"Well, you see, we've got quite an…unusual case, and, well, our client is accusing you."

"Me? Me?" Lestrade said incredulously, his eyes wide in shock.

"Yes you, and quiet down unless you want the whole of Scotland Yard to hear!" Sherlock hissed.

"Not like I think it's you, but the evidence is pretty straightforward," John said under his breath.

Sherlock turned around and said "Tut, tut John. No case is ever straightforward. You can make it seem that way, but there's always something underneath the surface." John gave an exasperated sigh, but said nothing more.

"Well, first of all, what are they accusing me of? Stealing their cat?" Lestrade demanded.

"Very funny Lestrade. No, they are accusing you of _murder_." The word hung heavily in the air as Lestrade's face contorted between shock, dismay, and anger.

Finally he cried out "That's…That's preposterous! Accusing me of murder?"

"She thinks you murdered their husband." Sherlock said flatly.

"She thinks I murdered her HUSBAND?" Lestrade said with a mixture of confusion and anger.

"Yes, now stop repeating everything I say and listen!" Sherlock said sharply.

"Fine." Lestrade muttered, looking down at his shoes.

"Since you are still technically a suspect, we have to interrogate you." Sherlock smirked at the prospect of this.

"Bloody hell, really? You really think I did it?" Lestrade let out a sigh of frustration and sat back down in his chair.

"Yes well, you were accused, so you're a suspect."

"You didn't answer the question." Lestrade said pointedly.

"And so, if you would be so kind as to accompany us at 221B, Baker Street in 5 minutes' time, we will be quite ready for your _interrogation_." And with that, Sherlock swept out of the door, soon followed by a startled John Watson who was checking his phone.

Lestrade stood up, put on his coat and yelled "Donovan, I'm going to be gone for a little while, not sure how long it will take."

He set off through the doors of Scotland Yard to the street and muttered, "You never answered the question."


End file.
